Sasuke: Fatal Error
by Phate Caedus
Summary: They wanted him to fix a problem. But when the job goes wrong, Sasuke and Naruto find themselves being hunted by both their target and employer. Part 2 of the Ninja Assassin trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

**"Maybe that's why so many serial killers work in pairs. It's nice not to feel alone in a world full of victims or enemies." **

**Chuck Palahniuk**

*****

You know what's the hardest part about my job? The part that I can never plan for, that no one can predict? Living with it afterward. Bearing up under the weight of what's been done. That's the hardest, even with limitations like mine. I never accept jobs that point me at killing women, children, or any "innocents" just to send a message to someone else.

But still.

You're never the same, afterward.

The people who trained me understood this, so they did the best they could to get me and my kind around this problem. We employed euphemisms: we "engage the enemy" or "take out the target", but we never "kill people." It's the same in all jobs that involve killing—assassin, soldier, butcher, doctor.

We also like distance. Drop a bomb and later you'll sleep like a baby. Bayonet range? Nightmares.

Obscuring features of the target is helpful, too. In firing squad lineups, they put hoods over the heads of the condemned. It's not so that those about to die won't see death coming at them. It's so the riflemen don't have to see their anguished faces after the triggers have been pulled.

It's been a long time since I've been able to employ any of these strategies. I typically work alone, so I don't need to discuss my work using euphemisms. And I normally have to do it from a very close, very personal distance. By the time I'm that close, it's too late to conceal their humanity.

That's all bad enough, even under the usual circumstances. But this time I was watching the target enjoy a Sunday at a mall in Costa Rica with a family that obviously loved him.

Deidara Tsukiyomi was his name. Just "D" to his business associates. He was born in China to a Caucasian mother and father, both missionaries. He was a citizen of the world, though, which meant he traveled much of the year sharing bomb-making expertise with a network of people that put said knowledge to grisly use. Jobs like Deidara's once offered a reasonable amount of in-the-shadows security, but since 9/11 that hasn't been the same. A bomb maker could wind up selling to the wrong people, thus enraging a certain government that shouldn't be enraged.

That was Deidara's case.

"_All right, brother, our friend just got here. It's him, the wife and kid, and what's gotta be the ugliest bodyguard I've ever seen outside of the US."_

Naruto. He was waiting for them in the lobby. It's been a while since I worked with partners, but Uzumaki had recently proven himself to be a damn good one. I spoke into my coffee cup, "Good. Let me know where they're heading."

"_Looks like the escalators. We might get lucky, here."_

Naruto has always been a walking contradiction, to me. For one thing he was a talker. A loud one. Those combine to make the type of person I normally avoid at all costs. His constant loud personality had put me off at first, and I'd initially thought of him as nothing but a braggart. But after I'd seen his effectiveness and coolness under fire, I knew I had been wrong. When he settled behind the scope of his rifle, there was almost an eerie transformation, and the blonde American joker would fade away, leaving one of the most focused, deadly men I've ever met.

I didn't understand the opposing forces of nature that combined to create his character.

Then again: I didn't need to.

"Let me know what floor they get off on, and then take the stairs one level higher. You can track them easier from there."

"_You're reading my mind."_

The mall was typical—a wide ground level with multi-level balconies stacked eight floors high. For a third world country, Costa Rica does have its major city, and San Jose made certain that tourists didn't feel too far from home. I was currently sitting in a Starbucks reading a newspaper, listening to Naruto give me a play-by-play of the target's movements.

_The target_. See? Nobody's immune to it, not even me.

I had gotten this job thanks to a young Mossad operative named Sakura. We had crossed paths a few months ago on a job, where we both discovered that we were targeting the same man, Gaara, an arms dealer. I was there to kill him, but Sakura needed him alive for the extraction of critical intelligence. We'd managed an uneasy truce at first, and things eventually worked out in the end. Very well, if you counted the month we spent together in Brazil afterward.

She had introduced me to two of her "co-workers," a skinny Caucasian named Lee and an Israeli named Kankuro. They had provided me with the information I would need in order to complete the job, and also what the end results were supposed to look like: preferably an accident—which just so happens to be my area of expertise—but the one critical factor needed would be that it could not be traced back to the Mossad. When I had asked about why they needed this discretion, they revealed that Deidara Tsukiyomi was an asset for the CIA.

At which point I had instantly doubled the price of killing him.

What surprised me was the fact that they agreed to it without a fuss.

"_All right, they're on level three, same as you. I'll head on up to the sunglasses hut on four and act as your eye in the sky."_

"Try to look like a tourist," I reminded him.

"_Professor, I AM a tourist."_

"Just don't get noticed." Even as I said it, though, I realized that it was pointless. Naruto was genetically wired to get looks from people. In some ways, I supposed, the tendency could be an asset. In an environment like this one, he came across more as a loud American tourist than an undercover operative. He'd hide in plain sight.

"_Hmm, looks like there's a cute trio of chicas over here by my spot."_

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Then find a new spot."

"_Hey, man, you're seriously asking me to disappoint the prettiest girls in the country?"_

"The prettiest ones?" I asked, annoyed. "You'd fuck an alligator if it held still long enough."

"_Brother, that is not one bit true. Snipers do not engage in congress with reptiles. We prefer, whenever possible, that our partners be mammalian. I'll head down to your level and watch from the opposite side of the mall. Target's heading your way."_

I didn't know how he managed to keep up the constant comedy while operational. When I'm in the field, I'm serious, even pessimistic. Naruto seemed to be my polar opposite.

Keeping a lookout on the escalators, I managed to spot when the happy family arrived. Mother, father, and son, all enjoying a happy day at the mall with an accompanying "friend," the bodyguard. Naruto was right. He was pretty big. A head taller than Deidara, he made the woman and boy look like dwarves. Happy, innocent little people who were glad to see the man in their lives was friendly enough to bring buddies along.

I thought of the bombs that Deidara made that allowed him to finance these shopping trips. If he were to die in an accident today, there was no question that many innocent lives would be saved.

But I also knew that his death would leave this boy without a father. Crucify him with grief and loneliness.

Believe me. I know.

I shook my head, confused. I've been at this for more years than I care to remember, and I'd never been troubled this way before. It bothers you later, but not like this. Not during the mission. _It's the family,_ I told myself._ You never wanted to see that the target has one. Perfectly normal reaction. It will pass, like it always does. Focus on the job. That's the one thing you can rely on._

I took a deep breath through my nostrils.

Right. The job.

Deidara pointed over at the food court area where I was sitting, mentioned something, and the three of them headed over to a nearby McDonald's stand. Watching them place their orders, I felt an idea come to me.

"Hey."

"_Yeah?"_

"There's a men's room on this floor. I'm going to wait inside of it."

"_You got a feeling our friend's gonna pay you a visit after lunch?"_

"With any luck, he'll come alone."

"_All right, I'll watch your back. Let you know what they do."_

Restrooms are nice because they're one of the last urban places where you won't find security cameras. I would wait inside, come up behind him, break his neck, and be out the door before he hit the floor. There were no cameras in the vicinity of the restroom, so my entrance and exit would go unrecorded. No one would check on him for at least two minutes—more like five—giving Naruto and I plenty of time to get out and go.

Not quite the level of naturalness that I'm known for, but I knew it would do. Restroom floors are always slippery. The police can be as lazy as anyone else—a broken neck would be easier to file under "Slip and fall" than would a bullet hole in the forehead. The main thing was that no one would be able to attribute it to my client.

I got up from my table and walked away, tossing the empty coffee cup and newspaper into the trash can. I didn't know if the bodyguard was watching me, but I kept my head bowed and posture humble—your typical Japanese tourist. If the bodyguard was any good at his job, he'd watch me go and take my exit as further confirmation that I was out of the picture, out of sight, out of mind.

But at the end of the food court, with a couple food stands in between us, I ducked into the restrooms. Five urinals along one wall, three toilet stalls. Two teenagers were zipping up when I came in and left a moment later. I went into the corner stall and closed the door.

"I'm in position. Tell me if we're about to get lucky."

"_Copy that."_

I waited. I imagined Deidara's family, waiting for him to return. Two minutes becomes three, then four. Someone makes a joke about how Daddy must've gotten lost, or fallen in. The woman goes to the door and calls for him. There's no answer. She feels odd, possibly a little concerned. She pokes her head inside and sees Deidara on the floor, his head at an impossible angle. She screams. The boy comes running. He stops at his mother's leg and looks through the door she's holding open. The image carves itself into his brain like a laser and never, never leaves him.

"_They're getting up. Looks like he's saying good-bye to the woman and the boy. Yeah, they're heading down the escalator. Bodyguard's staying with him, though, no surprise there."_

No. No surprise.

"_Looks like your hunch is good. Our friend's heading over."_

I felt an adrenaline wave wash over me.

The shit was about to get real.

"Is the bodyguard with him?"

"_No, Brutus is hanging back. Ten more seconds and you'll have your company."_

I heard the bathroom door open. I took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled all of it through my mouth, its passage smooth and silent in contrast to the thudding of my heart. I looked through the gap alongside the stall door and saw Deidara. He walked over to a urinal. His back was to me.

I opened the stall door. Took two silent paces forward.

"_Shit, the woman and the kid are back. The boy's heading towards your position. Must've told his mom he needs to take a leak."_

Fuck. Fuck.

I started backing up into the stall. I heard no sound, but adrenaline was closing down my hearing and there must have been some noise of which I was unaware, because Deidara turned his head and looked at me.

In the moment before the kill, you never look at the target's face. My gaze tends to focus on the torso, the movement of shoulders and hips. Doing so offers the advantage of spotting defensive movement, and you avoid seeing his eyes, his fear, his fucking humanity.

But this time I looked. Our eyes met. In his I saw earnestness, perhaps some surprise. No real worry. Not yet any fear.

The door opened. It was the boy.

And then I froze.

There's no other way to put it. My thoughts were clear. Likewise, my perception. But I couldn't move my body. I was rooted, even though my brain screamed at me to _Move! Move!_

Nothing happened.

Deidara looked at me, his surprise fading into concern then to fear, then to resolution. His right hand dipped into his front pants pocket. The thought of _knife!_ flashed in my mind, but still my limbs were locked.

But it must've been some sort of panic button, not a weapon. His hand did not withdraw. A second later I heard a voice in my ear, _"Shit, man, something's up. The bodyguard's heading in your way fast."_

I couldn't answer.

"_You there, man? Say something!"_

I could not, for the life of me, do a single thing.

"_Fuck it. I don't know if you can hear me, but I guess you can't answer. All right, I'm hauling ass to come and get you."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Do you want to feel good, or do you want to do good?**

**Ted Nugent**

*****

Deidara started backing toward the door. He turned and swept the boy up into his arms. A moment later the door burst open and the bodyguard flew inside, nearly running into the two of them. He saw my face, pulled up short—_he recognizes me, just from the food court, fuck he's good—_and he shoved Deidara and the boy behind him. One hand reached into the neckline of his light jacket.

Sweat was popping out across my face.

But I still couldn't move a muscle.

The door exploded inward again and Naruto barreled into the room. The bodyguard turned, his gun coming out smooth, black and compact and shiny with oil, a well-maintained instrument that he was probably as familiar with as his own hands.

And then, finally, when I saw that he was going to kill my partner, my paralysis broke.

Roaring something intelligible, I took two steps forward and grabbed the gun with both hands as it cleared the jacket. My years of gripping and twisting judo _gi_ uniforms, sparring weapons, and the joints of various opponents that come in all shapes and sizes have given me abnormal hand strength. Once I had a grip on the gun, it might as well have been mine in the first place.

I twisted hard, making sure to keep the muzzle pointed away from Naruto and myself. When it comes to disarming weapons, guns—whether it be handgun, shotgun, or any size in between—are usually the easiest to disarm. There is only one part of a gun that makes it dangerous, the muzzle. Keep it pointed away from you, and the weapon is reduced to being a really loud noisemaker.

The guard cried out as his trigger finger snapped, caught in the trigger guard. The gun went off as I yanked it away from him. The bathroom acoustics amplified the shot like we were inside an amplifier.

Naruto slung an arm around the guard's neck from behind and managed to yank him off his feet, transitioning into a sleeper hold while the guard struggled and kicked his legs in the air. I prepared to slam one elbow into his windpipe—you can't scream when choking—but was interrupted when the door crashed open _again_.

Two men, both Caucasian, burst into the room. Each had a gun in his hand.

"_Down!" _I shouted at Naruto. But he was still struggling with the guard, so he did the next best thing: spun around. He held the guard in front of him like he was a shield.

Both of the Caucasians dropped to one knee, reducing the size of the target they offered, moving smooth. _Holy shit, these guys are trained, too_. Naruto and the bodyguard were between us—in what was about to become the crossfire.

A crazy thought went through my head. _How the fuck are they getting all these guns in here?_

His muscles no doubt supercharged with adrenaline, Naruto dropped one hand down to the guard's waist and grabbed hold of his belt, heaving him towards the two men. He used the force of the throw to hurl himself backwards and onto the floor right in front of me.

Both men tried to get clear of the oncoming human projectile. One succeeded. But in order to get clear, he had been forced to lose his focus on me.

In that eyeblink of time, I put a round in his head.

The other man was on his back now, he and the bodyguard tangled up in each other against the door. He was trying to reacquire me in his sights, but too late. I changed aim and squeezed off two shots. The first hit the bodyguard in the back of his skull. The second hit the downed Caucasian in the shoulder, jerking him partly around, but he must've been Superman because his gun stayed steady. I saw him keep his eyes trained down the sights, the gun moving in slow motion toward my face, taking his second chance at killing me.

_No way, cocksucker. You don't get a second chance._

My next bullet hit him in the eye that he was aiming with.

It didn't kill him. Eyes only hurt a lot. I moved in, keeping the gunsight on him, and squeezed the trigger back twice more. They caught him both in the forehead. I tracked back to the bodyguard—motionless, bleeding from the neck wound—and put another two round in his head.

The room was suddenly, eerily quiet.

My ears were ringing. The air was thick with gunsmoke.

Naruto was looking up at me from the floor. His eyes were wide. "Who the fuck taught you how to shoot like _that_?"

I stepped over to the bodyguard and felt along his belt. There, a spare magazine. I pulled it free, ejected the current clip, and popped in the fresh one. Tapped the bottom, racked the slide, and stuck it in the back of my waistband where it would be concealed by my shirttail. The used magazine went into my pocket.

"Come on."

I was myself again. I'd think about what had happened later.

"We've only got a few seconds. Follow my lead."

Naruto picked himself up off the ground. "Your _lead?"_

I struggled not to get impatient. "Look, someone was just in here shooting up the place. Security guards are gonna be here any second. We're running civilians, same as everyone else."

He nodded. "Ah. Gotcha."

We each pulled a hat from our back pockets. Mine was a black baseball cap, Naruto's was a wide-brim. Witnesses tend to remember gross details only—shirt color, the presence of a hat or jacket. Elementary precautions like having a hat in your pocket can save you a lot of grief later.

I moved to the door. "Ready?"

"Right behind ya."

I looked at him. He was grinning.

"Goddammit, we were the _victims_, remember? You need to look scared."

"Man_, _I _am_ scared!"

"You're not convincing me very well."

"Fuck it, I'm telling you, man, this is how I look when I'm scared!"

Our eyes locked for a moment. His grin didn't lessen one bit.

I shook my head and muttered, "Here we go, then."

I opened the door. The food court was clearly disturbed: the people with good sense and experience with the sound of indoor gunfire were wisely heading down the escalators and out of the area. The curious, the deniers, and the downright stupid were lined up and gawking. For their benefit I turned my head toward the bathroom, pointing, and shouted, "They're shooting in there! Someone call the police!"

"_I'm scared! I'm scared!"_

An unhelpful thought flashed through my mind—_My partner is an idiot_—but I kept moving. In my peripheral vision I could see two white-shirted security guards heading towards the food court, neither of whom had guns drawn. They weren't sure what the trouble was and weren't yet taking it seriously.

We headed for the escalators, staying in the thickest part of the crowd. As we walked, we each automatically dropped the hats and, one at a time, pulled off and balled up our outer shirts, revealing white undershirts with sleeves. Typical tropical attire.

"We need to split up," I said, my voice being lost in the overall hubbub from the other shoppers. "Blonde white guy, Asian guy, that's about all these people are going to remember. But it's enough to ID us right now."

"Yeah."

"Go straight to the airport. I'll get our stuff from the hotel. We'll meet up ASAP at the bugout point."

"You think those two other guys were Agency?" he asked. "They moved like pros, and got there pretty fast."

"I don't know. I hope not. But we'll find out later. First we have to get as far out of the country as possible."

He shook his head, sadly. "Guess I need to break my date with the girls at the sunglasses hut."

In the craziness of the moment, half of me wanted to knock some sense into him. The other half wanted to laugh. I looked at him for a moment, still walking, unsure as to his mental sanity. When we got outside the mall and split up, I could swear I saw his grin widen.

***

As many times as she risked her life for it, Sakura never could feel like she belonged in Israel.

Although the Mossad arranged for her to return at least annually to visit, the years of living in other countries, in identities totally separate to her own true nature, had pulled her so far away from her fellow patriots that she had lost sight of that once promised land

The extraordinary security measures that accompanied her visits back—false papers, disguises, countersurveillance—was like a testament: _You protect us from evil, we welcome you as a dear friend. But you will find no sisters here._ No, she wasn't a native—adopted at age two, both parents killed by IED explosion while touring around the world, no living relatives or godparents—but her heritage made her just as proud as any of them.

As she walked into a café, pocketing her cell phone after checking the address delivered through text message, she wondered why they had called her back to the country. The message from her superiors hadn't felt like she had messed up. But that just made it more mysterious.

Walking into the café, she was not surprised to find it empty of both customers and employees. A table had been set up in the back with various treats and drinks, and two men sat waiting behind it. She recognized them.

Lee and Kankuro.

"Sakura-chan, _konnichiwa!"_ Lee said, standing up, smiling, and offering a wave that was very out of place in the deserted conditions. "Or should I say, _bonjour_? Would you like to stick with French?"

She liked that he asked. Moving in and out of cover, out of two separate identities, was difficult. Stressful. Things had been going well during her current op, a straightforward "honeytrap" of a certain Paris-based Saudi diplomat who had become distracted by her short, naturally straight hair; by her green eyes, endlessly enthralled by the older man's awkward showmanship; by her tantalizing Western clothing and the porcelain skin beneath them. She shook her head and smiled back, looking Lee in the eyes.

Lee was one of their best trainers, especially when it came to close combat. She liked him a lot, as did almost everybody. He was serious when the situation called for it, but his default persona was boyish, and noble. He never came on to her, and in fact treated her as much like a sister as a colleague, which made him rare in their organization and, had Kankuro not been there, well deserving of a hug.

Kankuro was like a polar opposite. Dark, moody almost, and intense. People admired Kankuro, but he also made them uncomfortable, and both for the same reason: he was extremely good at what he did. On two of Sakura's past assignments, he had been the shooter, the one who knocked down the marks she set up. In both instances he had emerged from the dark to put a .22 round right through the target's eye and disappear without a ripple. He worked with others when he absolutely had to, but at heart he was a loner, never more at home than when he was stalking his prey.

Once, in a safe room back in Australia, he had made a proposal to sleep with her, if only to pass the time before an op. It had been very direct, and Sakura hadn't liked the underlying assumption of what it meant he thought of what she did. Her rebuff had been just as direct.

The table was set for three, which told her that they weren't expecting any more company. They all sat down, and Lee gestured to the sandwiches. "Would you like something?"

She shook her head, eyes down, smiling politely. "No, but thanks. They served lunch on the plane."

Kankuro took a sandwich and bit into it.

Lee picked up the teapot. "I hope they didn't have tea at forty thousand feet? Turbulence isn't good for proper china."

She laughed a little at that, and extended her cup. "Thank you."

They all sat silently for a few moments, drinking. Eventually Kankuro tired of it, drank the contents of his teacup down, and set it on the table. "You're wondering why you've been called in, I take it?"

"Kankuro," Lee sighed, rolling his eyes. "Already? She just sat down."

"No, please," she shook her head. "I'm a bit curious, yes."

"We've had a problem. In Costa Rica. We think you can help us solve it."


	3. Chapter 3

**There are very few personal problems that cannot be solved through a suitable application of high explosives.**

**Scott Adams**

*****

_We've had a problem,_ she thought. Wasn't that the famous words of the Apollo 13 crew? Right as their ship was breaking apart all around them?

"All right," she said, steeling herself for what was coming.

"Recently we used a private contractor for a hit in Nosara. A Japanese man named Sasuke Uchiha."

She didn't hesitate. "Yes, I mediated that introduction."

Lee nodded. "Yes, that's right. You met him on the Gaara assignment, correct?"

"Correct."

Kankuro stepped back in. "Everything we were able to learn about this guy, including your own evaluation, indicated that he was extremely reliable."

_Including your own evaluation. _Something had gone wrong. And she was going to take some heat from it. She nodded, thinking that the best course of action would be to say as little as possible.

Lee glanced at Kankuro, then continued. "The target was a man named Deidara Tsukiyomi. He goes by the name 'D.' He has been sharing bomb making expertise—very advanced expertise—with our enemies."

She looked at Kankuro. "Why did you use Uchiha for a hit like that? Why outsource an operation?"

"Because Deidara has connections," he replied. "We think he's a CIA asset, and the CIA doesn't take very kindly to one of their allied intelligence services taking out their people."

"So instead you brought in an assassin who screwed it all up?" She had no interest in downplaying whatever Sasuke's mistakes had been, or showing that she was trying to protect him. At least, that's what she hoped Lee would see. Kankuro could fuck off.

Lee waved a hand like a father dismissing a squabble amongst children at the dinner table. "It does not matter," he said calmly, "how we got here. What matters is what we do next."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Sakura took a sip from her teacup and stared at the table, thankful that Lee was being the responsible one. Kankuro was an idiot, but she didn't think that she was that far behind.

"Uchiha tried to take out Deidara in a mall restroom. The target got away, but Uchiha managed to kill three people before disappearing. A bodyguard." He paused to look at her, showing just how serious he was. "And two CIA officers."

_Oh. Shit._

Sakura paused, thinking before speaking. "Can the CIA connect this to us?"

"That," Kankuro said, "is the question."

"Here's what we already know," Lee said. "Uchiha called in yesterday to brief us. He told us that he set up an ambush in a restroom. When Deidara arrived, his son followed him in, forcing Uchiha to hesitate."

"Apparently he won't harm women or children," Kankuro stated.

Sakura looked at him. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Considering how badly he messed things up, yeah, I think I do."

Sakura wanted to cut his head off, but did the next best thing: ignored him. Turning back to Lee she asked, "What next?"

"Then the bodyguard came in. Uchiha thinks Deidara had a panic button, and he took out the guard right before the two CIA officers arrived. He didn't know who the two men were, and still doesn't as far as we know. But they were armed, too."

"He killed them?"

Kankuro answered, "He killed everyone there except the one guy he was supposed to."

"And the boy, Kankuro, don't forget that."

He shrugged as though the thought were irrelevant. "So here's what's happened since then. Deidara is sitting down with his CIA friends, and they'll be showing him photos of known Asian operatives. That should be what, a stack three or four photos high? If they have pictures of Uchiha, and if Deidara can identify him, the CIA is going to be hunting for him. And not to kill him, either."

She could see where this was going.

Kankuro stared hard at her. "Deidara has a lot of enemies. But I think we can safely assume that our organization is at the top of the list. And when the CIA gets to Uchiha and makes him sing, our status will go from _Prime Suspect_ all the way up to _Proven Culprit."_

Kankuro allowed the silence to take over once more. His words sank deep into everyone.

Lee looked at her. "You understand what's at stake here?"

She nodded. "I understand."

"Do you think…can you get close to him?"

"You mean, can I set him up?"

Lee nodded.

She looked down at her hands, weighing what she knew about him against what she thought she knew.

"From what I've seen he's beyond expert-qualified in espionage tactics, and he's just about the smartest operative I've ever met. I don't know what he's been trained in. I can try. But why do you need me? You met him when you gave him the job, so you must have a way to contact him."

"If we ask for a meeting now, he'll be suspicious." Lee shook his head. "We need someone to lower his guard."

"He'll be suspicious of _me_, too."

Kankuro'e eyes seemed to smile all by themselves. "We're counting on you to ease his mind. You're pretty good at that."

She ignored the double meaning. "How are you going to do it?"

He waved the question aside as if it were nothing. "You contact him, go somewhere together. A romantic getaway. When the moment is right, you contact me."

"Who is the shooter?"

"I am."

"Kankuro, he already knows your face. How are you going to get close?"

"He'll never see me."

"He'll never _see _you?" It was very difficult to hide the scoff in her voice. She thought of the way that Sasuke had taken out Gaara. Nearly a dozen men had died that night, and she was still uncertain as to how it had been accomplished. "You have no idea…you have no idea who you are targeting, do you? Do you even know just what a Ninja Assassin is capable of?"

"I know that Uchiha is a fuckup. So he's going down. Or if you don't think I can do it, you're plenty capable of doing it yourself."

"Oh, by all means, Kankuro! Show us all how killing should be done."

She regretted the words at the instant they left her mouth.

"It's settled, I guess," Lee sighed. His expression was open, his voice sad that his friend was being reduced to this kind of betrayal. "So you'll do the job, then?"

Sakura looked at him, anger still in her eyes. "When have I ever refused?" she replied.

"None that I can remember," Kankuro added, and in those five words she heard an echo of _you whore._

She placed her cup down and stood up, reaching for her bag. "Well, there was that one time, Kankuro."

He flushed, and she smiled at him, twisting the knife.

***

The man they called Orochimaru never got upset.

It wasn't that he didn't show agitation. He simply did not experience it. The crazier things became around him, the calmer he felt at his center, because whenever he performed a task, he was prepared for anything. He knew the ins and outs, the backup plans and alternate courses of action, the possible threats and confirmed allies and reliable employees. Whenever something went wrong, he would feel something close to resembling happiness—for he was always capable of handling anything. Had he been alive in the ancient days of his Japanese roots, the man known as Orochimaru would have been fucked with by nobody.

In combat, when his men saw how controlled and deadly he was, they themselves became controlled and deadly. During a crisis, the more others panicked, the more his temperature dropped. It was enough for people to constantly wonder if Orochimaru knew something they didn't. In truth, it was simply control. Control made him operate with calm energy.

When D had called him, nearly hysterical, that calmness had been put to the test.

"Just tell me what happened."

It was a phrase that would be repeated three times, all in the same calm tone of voice. It took a little while, but eventually D stopped yelling and threatening and told him the story. It was plain to see that the bombmaker had plenty of reason to be hysterical. Someone had just tried to assassinate him, and two of Orochimaru's best men—men from his Sound unit—had been killed in the process.

"Let's meet up. Can you identify the shooters if I showed you some photos?"

"_You want to meet up?"_ D practically exploded. _"How do I know if I can trust you? How the hell do I know that you weren't behind all this?"_

"Those were my men that were killed, D."

There was a long pause.

Orochimaru's heart was slow and steady. "We don't have to meet. I can email you a file of mugshots."

"_All right, all right."_

"You say there were two of them."

"_I think so, yes. Someone came in after the bodyguard."_

"But you didn't see his face."

"_Not too well. He was Caucasian. I think he was blond, I'm not sure."_

"The first guy was Asian, is that right?"

"_Yes. He froze, so I got a real good look."_

"That's very unusual," he muttered, more to himself than anything. "Hesitation tends to be an affliction of the inexperienced."

"_Well, maybe he was inexperienced, then! A fucking ape can pull a trigger, you know!"_

"An inexperienced man would not have been able to anticipate your movements, kill your bodyguard, and take out two of my best men with him. I've already gotten some intel on the crime scene. They were all hit with tight shots, headshots. Take my word for it, this shooter is not inexperienced."

"_You'd better find him. And when you find him, you make him suffer first. My son was there!"_

D was always trying to sound like he projected an air of dangerous authority. It was sad, really. "Who do you think might have been behind the operation?"

"_How should I know? It could have been anyone!"_

"I'm sorry, D, but 'anyone' doesn't help me narrow it down."

"_Who do you think it could've been?"_

Christ, he was asking Orochimaru's questions right back at him. The man was impossible. "I have my own ideas, but I doubt that anyone is in a better position than you. Who comes to mind first?"

He could hear D shrug, even over the phone. _"The Mossad, I guess. They don't like my buyers, the fucking hypocrites."_

Orochimaru had already thought of the Israelis. They were at the top of his short list. "Who else?"

"_Well, the CIA, of course."_

"My contacts there are already looking into that. Any others? The BIN, maybe?"

"_BIN?"_

"The Badan. Indonesian intelligence."

"_BIN, yes, maybe…maybe."_

He realized that D wasn't going to be helpful at all.

"_My son is traumatized,"_ D continued. _"He and his mother have gone to stay with her relatives in the provinces."_

"I can arrange for extra protection."

"_And I need a new bodyguard. Otherwise I can't continue to help you."_

"I've already taken care of it."

"_And the men who tried to kill me?"_

"My people will find them."

"_Find them soon. You're not my only friend, you know."_

Another silly threat. Orochimaru could practically feel them coming. "D, I know you have many friends. Have any of them been as reliable as I have?"

"_You told me that your friendship would protect me! That something like this would never happen!"_

He paused, reviewed everything that had been said in his mind, and decided. For the first time he allowed some of the venom he held for the man creep into his voice. Part of it was for effect. But not all of it.

"Two of my best men died trying to protect you. And a bodyguard that I set you up with. Those are three lives lost. Had it not been for them, you would be dead right now and your son would have been the first to see your body. How traumatized do you think that would leave him?"

The other end of the phone stayed silent.

"If you go to other people—your other 'friends'—then it complicates my job. We trip over each other. We butt heads. Give me some time to solve the problem before you do something to complicate it."

"_I have other friends,"_ D said again. _"They might be better at this than you, you know. They're reliable."_

Orochimaru sighed. Time for a reality injection. "D, the people you're talking about are not your friends. They are your buyers. People that you know who have interests. If those buyers decide that their interests are out of alignment with yours, they can become decidedly unfriendly. How will I protect you then?"

Silence on the other line.

"Stay indoors. Away from the windows. Give me twenty-four hours, and I will have found the ones who were behind this." He hung up without another word.


	4. Chapter 4

**Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind**

**Willian Shakespeare**

*****

It used to be that, when an intelligence agent wanted to communicate with an asset so sensitive that a meeting was impossible, they had to use what's called a dead asset would drop a message in the hollow of a tree, or hide it in an obscure book in the public library, and later the spy could come by to retrieve it.

It's easier with the internet, and a lot more secure. The client posts an encrypted message on a bulletin board, the electronic equivalent of a tree hollow. It's much safer and more reliable than texting a message to a cell, or a phone call that might be overheard.

Checking the bulletin board I now had with Sakura, I kept telling myself, was a mixture between business and pleasure. She had provided me with information that had led to the Deidara job and, if I could straighten that one out, there might be more jobs in the future. But I couldn't honestly say that was all. The real reason that I still communicated with her was because of our little time spent together after the Gaara Op.

It wasn't just the sex (mind-blowing as it was). Nor was it only her beauty. She wasn't the perfect companion for me: she could be demanding, sometimes moody, and she wasn't without her temper. But sweetness and perfection were only parts of a charade that I assumed she played with her targets at work. The uncertainty and work of our relationship actually helped to spice things up, made her feel _real_ to me, made me want to trust her.

And trust, as I was discovering with Naruto, was a dangerous narcotic. I'd had a little taste of it. And now the thing I had lived without for so long had suddenly become indispensable.

At the Internet café, I went to the bulletin board I had set up with Sakura, not with any more than the usual hope of maybe/maybe not. But there was a message waiting. My heart did a little backflip.

It said: _I've got some time off. Do you?_

Below was a number starting with 331. The country code for France and the city code for Paris.

She answered after one ring. _"Allo?"_

"Hey." I stared straight out at the street. Afraid of my hopes.

"Hey," she said back. When I didn't answer, she asked, "How have you been?"

Well, whatever I had been expecting, I hadn't thought that a phone call could be uncomfortable like this. "Good…you?"

"The same. I've been working on a new project, but I can get away for a few days, if you can."

No mention of business. Either this was a personal call, as I wanted to hope, or it was business disguised as personal. Which among the current range of possibilities would probably mean something very bad.

"Yeah, I can get away. I'm in the middle of something right now, and it's quiet for the moment. But you never know when it might heat up again."

"I can come to you, if that's better?"

"That might not be so easy. I'm in Thailand."

Normally I never give away my position to anybody. But Sakura was smart, and all she would have to do was check the caller ID to see the area code. If this was tactical, then she was probably already aware of my location, anyway.

"Thailand sounds nice, actually. I've never been there, and I can probably find a nonstop flight from here. You want to take care of everything else?"

I recognized the concession to what Naruto might call my paranoia. She knew that letting me choose the final destination, without telling her in advance, would be more comfortable for me. "Great. You make the flight arrangements, and leave the rest to me."

"I'll put it up on the bulletin board." There was a pause, then: "It'll be good to see you."

"I…I'm glad you got in touch."

"_Jaa," _she said, displaying a little knowledge of Japanese. _Well then._

I smiled. _"A bientot."_ And hung up. I checked the flight plans from Paris to Bangkok, made all the necessary arrangements, and left the Internet café for the outside city streets.

When an assassination turns into an assassination _attempt_, you have to hide. Not the most honorable thing, true, but neither is being paid to kill a man and making it look like he struck the ground at an odd angle after slipping in a puddle of piss. So when you hide, it's best to head for the most distant area possible.

Thailand is nice.

I don't spend much time in Thailand. The smell of the cities, the vibe, is all low-level dealings, much of it sexual. The city that Naruto and I now found ourselves in, Bangkok, has made a lot of forward advancements in recent years to catch up to the rest of the world. But to me it always been about lasts: the last party of the evening that nobody wants to end because they have to get up and go to work tomorrow; the last chance to make mistakes with someone of the opposite sex that just so happens to be drunker than you are; the last place you want to call a safe haven. Because it's not.

As I walked along the city streets, letting the crowds take me closer to the restaurant that I was to meet Naruto at, I found something that caught my eye: a roadside vendor selling knives. I took the moment to arm myself with a cheap Sheffield folder with a wooden handle and a four-inch blade that looked like it had been sharpened by laser. I shaved off a few hairs from my arm to make certain, then paid the vendor and left.

For a long time I had gotten by without carrying a weapon. I like it that way. For one thing, you tend to comport yourself differently when you're armed, and there are people in this business who can spot the signs. Also, my mild-mannered civilian act would be slightly discovered if I were to be caught carrying, say, a folding karambit or some other concealed cutlery. And then there's the matter of blood. It gets all over you, and seriously compromises your ability to disappear into with a crowd after a close encounter.

But after one such close encounter with a certain red-haired _savate_ practitioner a few months back, I learned that sometimes it's better to be prepared for combat than have deniability rights. The risk of being arrested is not as important as the risk of being dead.

I met Naruto at a diner called Sukhumvit 23. The place was packed with around 70 people; half local, half foreign. They all seemed more interested in what they were ordering than in the two hired killers that were meeting up after a two day escape run. I realized, though, that I was doing a security sweep more out of habit, not because I thought Naruto might have brought trouble.

I was surprised to realize that I trusted someone this much. My discomfort must have shown.

"Hey, man, you okay?"

I gave him a nod that wasn't nearly true enough. "Fine, yeah. Any problems on the way over?"

He shook his head, that damn grin of his still on his face. "Nope. You wanna eat here, or should we head somewhere else? I recommend we stay. Not only is the _pu nim pad gra pow_ the best in the city, but there's a cute waitress over there that's been stripping me with her baby blues for the past couple minutes."

I ignored him. "You turned your cell off, right?"

He sighed. "Yes, Mom. But just know, I'm disappointing all the girls that are trying to reach me."

"Naruto, you've got to be a little more serious for about ten seconds."

"And _you_, my female deprived friend, have to get over this lone-wolf, International Man of Mystery shit. You can't live like that twenty-four-seven, man. It'll burn you out. Seen it happen."

I rolled my eyes. "Let's just eat here."

"Well, thank God for that, I'm starving." The waiter came over and Naruto ordered our food. He knew what he was doing—even his Thai was passable. "Okay, so what's the status? I hope your Israeli friends aren't too pissed."

"I'm not sure. I told them that two unknown players had popped onto the scene and turned it into a shooting gallery, and that said players might have been CIA. They sounded a little concerned at that. But they're just glad we got out alive and we can't implicate them for the failed hit."

"Yeah. About that…"

_Shit._ I knew this was coming.

Naruto looked me straight in the eye. "When I got into that bathroom, I was damn surprised to see that the target was still breathing. I know what you can do up close with your hands. You were alone with him long enough."

I didn't say anything.

"You gonna tell me what happened?"

I paused, then swallowed the bullet. "I'm still not sure. He came in, his back was to me, I moved out of the stall. Then you told me the boy was coming. I must've made a sound, because he turned around and saw me. I looked in his eyes—"

"Whoa. Wait a minute. Hold the fucking phone." He sat up and looked down at me, eyes narrowed. "You looked into his _eyes_, man? Why'd you do something like that?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

"Damn. Even when I look through the scope, I never look at his eyes. And if I do, it's only at one of them. Then all I see is a bullseye, you know? I never see a man, only a target. If you see a man, you might…I don't know…"

"Hesitate." I inhaled and pushed my frustration back down. "All right, it's over with. We've got to focus on our next step."

"You think the mission is over with?"

"Maybe," I considered. "We can't get close to him again the way we did. He's got too close a look at my face. And I think we can expect that he'll be taking extra precautions from now on. So we need a new variable. I want to figure out who the other two guys in the bathroom were, and I think the only way to get that information is from the Israelis."

"So we wait until they contact us?"

"Right. I'm expecting a call anytime."

He leaned back in his chair and grinned. "Well, there's no better place in the world to wait around than in Bangkok. Hope you like Asian girls."

I sighed, feeling like a parent about to argue with a teenager. "We've still got a job to do. You're not going to be very useful drained of all bodily fluids and nursing a hangover."

"Tell you what. Best way for us to survive is if we stick together. Why don't you head out with me tonight?"

"Oh, _hell_ no."

"Come on, man, when was the last time you got yourself properly laid?"

"A night out with a prostitute isn't exactly my thing."

"Who said anything about a prostitute? My rugged good looks and your vampire _Twilight_ impersonation? The local girls'll be throwing themselves at us when they see you traveling with a handsome stranger such as yours truly."

"I don't think so."

He snapped his fingers. "Hey, we can get you some of that black market Viagra, too! With a double dose you should do fine. Plus, you've still got about a quart of Uzumaki Crimson sloshing around in you, that should help…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Analyzing things was fine, but good reflexes could save your life.**

**Orson Scott Card**

*****

The cab ride to Lumpini stadium took ten minutes. We bought ringside seats for fifteen hundred baht a seat and went inside.

Muay Thai_,_ or Thai boxing, is one of the few martial arts that is a recognized national sport. The fighters wear gloves, but that's pretty much where the similarities to Western boxing end. It's referred to as, "The Art of the Eight Limbs," as the boxers also legally and enthusiastically fight with their feet, knees, shins, elbows, and even heads.

During some time spent in Japan, I had trained with an ex-fighter, and we had taught each other a thing or two. I went away from that training bout with a lot of respect for the ferocity and effectiveness of the fighting system.

We caught the last three fights of the evening. As always, I was impressed with the skill and heart that these men brought into the ring, and this time I found myself a little envious, too. Naruto was characteristically enthusiastic, of course, hollering during the fights and even getting up to offer some congratulations in Thai to the winners as they left the ring. I would have preferred it if he kept a lower profile, but I recognized that it would be impossible for him. I reminded myself that, if I wanted to keep this fledgling partnership going, I would have to accept him more or less the way he was.

When the last match ended, we headed outside. "Well, the night is young, and so are we. Whaddya think, time to hit a bar?"

I nodded. "Yeah, if you know a place."

"Then follow me, for I happen to know _just _the place."

We caught another cab, and it only took us ten more minutes to get to the place Naruto had in mind: "Brown Sugar! The finest jazz restaurant in Thailand!"

A redbrick building with a single wooden door propped open, inviting. A window with rows of glass shelves displaying bottles of everything from Japanese sake to Kentucky moonshine. The place had a classic, some might say 'run-down' feel to it. The main room was a cramped, low-ceilinged space that could probably hold thirty people on a good night, and it was currently three-quarters full. There were a few wooden tables and heavy wooden chairs, all providing a good line of sight to the stage.

"Well, what do you think?" Naruto asked. "You like it?"

"I do," I admitted, failing to keep the surprise out of my voice.

"Ha, what did you think, I was gonna take us to a strip club or something?"

"I hope that's rhetorical."

He shook his head. "Sometimes you gotta give people more credit, man."

I looked at him, sighing. "Okay. Thanks for showing—"

He grinned. "Ah, forget it."

"I was just going to say that I'll order the drinks, but since you said…"

"Hey now! Whatever makes you happy, brother!

The hostess brought us to our table, and I ordered us two drinks without telling him what they were. Naruto was skeptical at first, but his eyes lit up once he brought the glass down from his lips. "Damn!"

"I'll send your compliments to Scotland." I knew what he meant.

"What the hell is this?"

"1958 Highland park single malt whisky. Runs about fifteen hundred per bottle, but I'd say it's worth it."

"That so?" He took another swig. "How d'you know so much about whisky?"

I shrugged. "For what I do, I need to be able to blend in with a lot of different scenes. To do that, you need to know the little things, the tells, that can give you away as being an imposter. Could be knowledge about drinks, could be which kind of fork to use, could be the right clothes to wear. Or the right words." I sipped, and continued. "To tell you the truth, I don't know how I learned about whisky. I just try to watch and learn. I'm a good imitator, but to tell you the truth I just like single malts."

"So you can just…put these things on, then take them off, like they're some kind of disguise?"

"I guess so. You do it too, although a little differently. You've got a way of disappearing when you want to, I've seen that."

"Yeah, that's from sniper training in Konoha. It's a Zen thing."

Periodically, a new couple or group would come in from the outside, and I was glad to see Naruto checking the door each time this happened. In professionals this should be a quick reflex, performed as unconsciously as breathing. You always want to know who's joining you, to maintain your sense of the crowd.

At one point, I looked up to see a striking Thai girl enter the club. Her makeup was perfect and her hair was done in a neat cascade down the sides of her face. She had perfect posture and a confident gait. Drop earrings that looked like jade gleamed under each ear. She sat down at the bar like royalty on a throne and looked around the club. Naruto nudged me, grinning.

"I feel a disturbance in the Force."

I sighed, wondering whether I'd been giving Naruto too much credit for what I thought were perimeter checks. It looked like the more likely explanation was excessive horniness. The girl saw Naruto and smiled. He smiled back.

_Oh, great._ I took a longer sip. _Here we go._

She mentioned something to the bartender and got up, then headed towards us.

"Dibs."

"No argument there."

The confidence she displayed in brazenly approaching us told me I was right in suspecting she was a prostitute. But it occurred to me that her presence here was a little odd. The high-end hookers tend to troll in dance clubs and pop bars, not out-of-the-way dives like Brown Sugar. Well, she might not have been having any luck in the other places, might have drifted here for the music.

Still, as it always does in response to something out of place, my alertness jumped up a notch. Although I had been keeping a low-level awareness of what was going on in the room, I glanced around to make sure that nothing else was wrong. Everything seemed okay.

The girl came to our table. I checked her hands: right hand empty, left hand holding a tiny black evening bag, probably weighed down with nothing more than a cell phone, lipstick, and a mirror. I didn't pick out any danger signals. But my sense that something was out of place wasn't entirely gone, and I remained watchful.

She glanced at me, then Naruto. "Hi," she said, in a voice that was both sweet and slightly husky. "My name is Haku." She had a heavy accent.

"Why, hello, Haku," Naruto said, giving her an enormous smile. "I'm Bob, and this here is Richard. But most people call him Dick."

She held out her hand to him and they shook, and then she turned it to me. I caught her fingers and gave them a gentle squeeze. Her fingertips were smooth, no calluses, and as she withdrew I glanced at her hand. Her fingers were long and perfectly manicured. There was something…something here that I didn't understand.

"Would you like to join us for a drink?" Naruto asked her.

She offered a pleased smile, sat down, and made some superficial adjustment to her hair. "Yes, very much." I expected this kind of conversation would be all that was comfortable for her in English. That, and maybe, "Oh, you so big cock! You make me come so much!" and other such Shakespearean phrases of the trade.

I scanned the room while Naruto and Haiku murmured to each other. No one around the bar set my radar off. But something was still bothering me. Not a lot, but it was there. _Maybe you're just jumpy. You're not used to being out in the open with company, with someone approaching you uninvited. Maybe._

Naruto ordered the girl a fresh drink, and she put her hand on his. Well. It looked like I was going to finish up the evening on my own, after all. It suited me fine. "You know, I'm actually feeling a little tired."

The girl glanced up and back at me. From that angle, beneath the smooth skin of her neck I saw a slight bulge of the cricothyroid cartilage…

…better known as the Adam's apple.

_Oh. My. God._

All at once I understood what was making me so twitchy. I had to stifle a laugh.

"Oh come on, Dick, it's not your bedtime yet! Stick around, you might have some fun for yourself!"

_Oh, I'm going to have some fun all right, _I thought. _I'm sure of that._

"Well…okay. Maybe for another song."

"There you go," Naruto laughed as he drained the rest of his whiskey. "Me and Haiku are gonna get refills. You want another? I'm buying."

"Oh…sure, why not?"

Naruto signaled the waitress and ordered everyone another round. He and Haku both leaned close again and went back to their whisperings of nasty nothings. Oh boy, oh boy, this was going to be so good. I didn't know what I'd done to deserve something so beautiful, but here it was. And it could only get better.

The drinks came. I enjoyed mine in silence, my focus alternating between the bar, the crowd, and my distracted drinking companions. Haku's arm had disappeared beneath the table. From the angle of their bodies, I deduced that her hand was, at minimum, on Naruto's upper thigh. I was willing to bet on farther north, though.

Haku whispered something to him. Naruto nodded. She smiled at me, got up, excused herself, and headed towards the restroom. Naruto's eyes were focused on her ass while he spoke. "Well, my friend, you know I'm going to miss you, but duty calls."

I couldn't smile. I would just completely lose it. "No problem. She's full of surprises, from the look of her."

"Yeah, no kidding. When was the last time you saw something so fine? A little flat in the chest, yeah, but that doesn't bother me a bit. I'm sure her other charms'll make up for it."

"Oh, definitely. I'm sure she's very well equipped for the job." It was becoming next to impossible to keep my voice even. One hitch, one chuckle, and I'd be lost in a hurricane-force laughing fit.

"Thanks for the understanding, man. It's time for the young lady to have the experience of a lifetime. It'll be nothing but disappointment for her after tonight, but that's the price one pays for a love-filled evening with Naruto."

I nodded. A single word and I was done for.

He must have misinterpreted my silence. "Hey, man, there's no need for you to spend the night alone. You're not a bad-looking guy, and the ladies won't know about your paranoia until it's too late anyway. You could hook up with someone if you wanted to."

Part of me—a _very_ big part of me—wanted to let him go through with it. And I would have paid almost anything to be there at the moment of truth. But he was too good of a friend. Hell, he'd saved my life. I couldn't do it to him, even if he did deserve it.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Naruto. She's a _katoey._"

_Katoey_, or "lady-boy," has a range of meanings, from a guy who likes to dress in drag occasionally to a man who has had full transgender surgery and is now effectively a woman. They can be found all over Thailand and are generally accepted, if sometimes difficult to spot, within the society. Regardless of the differences, what they all have in common is that presumably Naruto wouldn't want to sleep with one.

He shot me a look and cocked his head. "Now that's just not like you, man. Don't go trying to spoil my night just because you haven't got a girl of your own."

Denial. It was to be expected. "Did you notice the size of her hands? They're just a little big for her frame, don't you think? And did you get a look at her Adam's apple? Women don't _have_—"

"Don't fuck around with me like that," he said, but I could see some color drain from his face.

I bit my bottom lip, defying the titanic urge to laugh. "I'm not."

Haku came back from the restroom as if on cue. Naruto stood up and turned to her. "Baby," he said, "_Dick_ over her thinks…he says…"

I smiled gently to her. "I just didn't want there to be a misunderstanding. Bob didn't know you're a _katoey_."

She smiled back, then looked at Naruto, her eyes wide. "You no like _katoey_?"

Naruto lost a little more color. "I…I…" he stammered.

"Me, I think you already know," she said. "So I no say anything…"

"No, I _didn't_ know!" he said, voice anguished.

"Most men, no problem. When it dark…"

"I'm not like _them_!"

She smiled hopefully, eyes wide. "Please, honey? I like you."

Naruto's expression was about halfway to physical illness. He held a hand out, palm facing her, while the other hand settled over his stomach as if to fight back nausea. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but could you just go?"

Haku hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. Thank you for drinks with me." She got up and left the club, no doubt disappointed that the time invested here had yielded so little. Naruto looked like he had been gut shot.

He slumped into his chair and looked at me. "When did you spot that shit about her neck?"

"Well…"

"You left me hanging for a pretty long time there, bud."

"Hey, I thought you knew. It was pretty obvious, you know."

"It most definitely was _not_ obvious, no sir!"

"You sure you don't want to take her back to the hotel? If you hurry…"

"Oh, drop it."

"Because, c'mon, you had to know. At some level. I mean, you even pointed out that she was a little flat-chested. And I don't see how you could have missed the hands and the Adam's apple. She might as well have been wearing a sign."

"Fucking _ought_ to." He drained the rest of his drink in one long swallow, wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, and stood. "Well, if you don't mind, I'm gonna go try someplace different."

"Strip club?"

"You know it."

"Good idea. If they're undressed you'll have a better chance of making sure."

He scowled. "You coming along?"

"No, I'd better let you go alone. I wouldn't want to interfere with a man's quest to recover his pride…but on the other hand, who's going to warn you if you run into another—"

"I'll be fine alone, already."

I thought about going on, something about how, with all our expertise and training on how to spot abnormalities, he still had almost unintentionally gone off with a _katoey_. Or presumably unintentionally. But he looked so glum that I decided to give it a rest for now. I smiled. "All right. We'll talk in the morning?"

"In the morning." He tossed a few hundred baht onto the table, put his jacket on, and left.

As soon as he was out of sight, I allowed the laughter to come out. A few weird looks were aimed my way as I shook with silent laughter. It was going to be good to have something in my arsenal that I could bring up anytime Naruto gave me grief.

I chuckled some more, then leaned back to enjoy the rest of the music. It was odd that a _katoey_ hooker had been here, though. What were the odds that she would have found Naruto here, of all places? Brown Sugar was usually the wrong place for ladies of the evening on the prowl for customers. Sure, she could have come in here to enjoy the music, take a break, whatever, but the way she'd been looking around right away, the way she'd immediately zeroed in on Naruto…

_Maybe that was opportunistic._

_Didn't feel opportunistic. It felt focused._

I chewed on that. Then, in a sort of semiconscious shorthand that was more suddenly _just there_ than deduced piece by piece, I realized_:_

_If someone wanted to get to you and Naruto, the first thing he'd try to do is separate you both. To do that, if he was smart, he would employ some means that could distract your sensitivity to odd things in the surrounding environment. Give you something out of the ordinary for you could focus on. A lady-boy, for example. Or, if you didn't spot the fact that there was something wrong, and one of you went off with her…boom. There you go, you've found a way to divide us._

My hand tightened around my glass.

_And a lady-boy would be used to acting, to passing off as something else, to luring people. Fooling them._

I felt my blood spike with adrenaline and my heart start to pound. If Naruto had still been at the table, he would have laughed at me. I didn't care. There were certain things I would try to change about myself to accommodate our partnership. Trusting my gut would never be one of them.

I stood up and walked briskly to the door, as fast as I could move without being obvious. I was hoping that I was wrong. I could have been wrong. It was very, very possible that I was wrong.

But I knew I was right.


End file.
